


Mycroft, Matchmaker Extraordinaire

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Fluff, Gen, Holmes Brothers, Incidental Sex, Johnlock Fluff, Light-Hearted, M/M, Marriage, Pulling One Over on Mycroft, Some Humor, and handcuffs, but that's it, extremely light dom/sub undertones, okay, one dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>Mycroft goes to ridiculous lengths to play matchmaker for Sherlock and John. Elaborate plots and lavish anonymous gifts and whathaveyou. He is *desperate* that those two become a couple, it would benefit everyone.<br/>Sherlock and John are too amused to tell him that they've been together for months already. Plus, you know. The gifts are kinda awesome.<br/>And of course eventually they let Mycroft in on it, Sherlock taking great pleasure in having managed to deceive his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mycroft, Matchmaker Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> And, um... a little bit of porn and the tiniest bit of kink crept it!

**  
One  
**

“John!” Sherlock yelled.

“What? If it's another insult, shut it.”

“No, my brother’s outside again.”

John laughed, and appeared from the kitchen drying his hand on a tea towel. “Really?”

“What do you reckon it'll be this time?” John mused.

Sherlock hummed as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Tickets, the London Symphony Orchestra this time. Hmm. He'll claim his associates want to meet us. Well, they probably do.”

“The orchestra?” John burst out laughing.

“Hey! I used to be in it once.”

“Why are you not anymore?”

“Cocaine seemed more appealing.”

John just laughed harder. “I bet it's a great atmosphere though.”

Sherlock smiled slightly in remembrance. “Yeah. Quick, John. Who are you 'dating' this month?”

“Um, Sarah? Donna? No, Amy!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Another one of those compatriot women.”

“Companion,” the doctor corrected. “It gives me a person to interact with up here.” He tapped his temple and grinned.

The door opened and Mycroft sauntered in.

“Brother dear, how nice of you to grace us with your presence.”

“Sherlock. John.” He nodded to each in turn.

John gave the elder Holmes a little wave. “I'd offer you tea, but I'm running a bit late. Have to get ready for my date.” He turned towards the detective. “No calls or texts unless the flat is on fire.” Just as John stepped through the door to the stairwell, he turned back. “And no setting it on fire on purpose!”

“John, wait,” Mycroft called. “This concerns you as well.”

Sighing John turned around, arms folded. “This better be important, Mycroft.”

“It is, I assure you. Sherlock, mummy and father are in town they want us to meet at the orchestra you used to play at when you were younger. I've got you tickets.”

“How does this concern me?” John asked pretending he was really in a hurry.

Mycroft gave him a grave look. “It's a matter of national security.”

Sherlock snorted and took up his violin, holding it to his shoulder. “Mummy and Father don't get involved in your business, brother dear. What's your true purpose?”

“They want to meet you, John.”

“Them and who else?” Sherlock growled.

“Why? I'm sure Sherlock's had friends before.”

“You're a bit more than a friend though, aren't you?”

“Well, I guess I'm also his flatmate but that doesn't make me anymore important.”

Mycroft walked over and sat in John's chair, brushing away an imaginary piece of lint as he settled. “I'm not leaving, Sherlock, not until you both agree to meet us tonight.”

“No.” John took a step forward. “I've got a date!”

Sherlock scraped his bow roughly across his violin strings, suppressing a grin. John's acting abilities were improving vastly. “You heard John. He has a date. Now, kindly piss off.”

“I've already said I'm not leaving without your agreement.”

“Fuck sake!” John snapped. “I'll find my suit. You too Sherlock!” He added, doing a fantastic job of suppressing his own smile. He was doing as well as Sherlock at this acting lark, he was sure.  

The detective walked over to where Mycroft was sat and plucked at his violin creating sharp pizzicato notes that fairly cut the air. He let his smile emerge as his brother grimaced and rose to leave.

“I'll send a car, 7.00 sharp. Be ready, Sherlock,” Mycroft admonished. “You don't want to keep Mummy waiting.”

“What time does it start?”

“Just be ready at 7, little brother.”

Sherlock glared at him and John called through from the bathroom. “I'm having the shower first.” The detective rolled his eyes.

Sherlock waited until he was sure Mycroft had got in his car and left before he joined John in the bathroom.

The doctor grinned as long arms wrapped around him from behind. “I thought you'd never join me, you gorgeous thing.” He turned around in Sherlock's arms and reached down to unfasten the detective's flies.

“All in good time, John, all in good time.”

“Shut up and get your arse naked.”

Sherlock smirked but froze when the door opened again. “Shit, Mycroft.” He quickly pushed his bits and pieces back into pants and re-buttoned his shirt. But it wasn't his brother, it was Mrs Hudson.

“Oh, Sherlock,” their landlady gushed. “I'm so sorry I missed your brother.”

“Pfft. I don't know why.”

“It's high time you tell him, dear.”

Sherlock scoffed, “Why would I want to do that? This is so much more fun. He bought us a holiday to Dubai last week.”

“When for?”

“Next month.”

“Do tell him before then, won't you?”

Sherlock looked confused. “Why?”

Mrs. Hudson patted his cheek fondly. “Because. If you don't, I will.”

The detective crossed his arms and huffed. “That's blackmail Mrs. Hudson, blackmail!”

She grinned broadly, “Yes, dear, I know.”

“If you tell my brother about me and John, I'll tell Peter about Alan.”

Mrs. Hudson froze where she was on the way to the door.

“John Watson!” She yelled, tone sharp.

They waited a moment where there was clambering about and John appeared in just a towel.

“Your boyfriend is blackmailing me.”

“Sherlock...”

The detective drew himself up and put on his most put-upon expression. “It's tit for tat, John. Isn't that the expression?”

John's hand came up and he pointed at finger first at the detective, then at his landlady. “No wonder you two get along. Are you certain you're not related?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“Are you not going to tell him off?”

John chuckled. “Bathroom, Sherlock. Right now.”

“But-” he cut off and sighed, grinning at his landlady.

Mrs. Hudson waved him away. “Get on with you!”

Sherlock obliged, turning with a flourish and left her behind. He turned. “Are we even though?”

“Even, dear, I'm sure I don't know what you mean?”

“Stop plotting the pair of you, Sherlock, bedroom. Go!”

John smiled at his landlady. “I promise, we'll tell Mycroft... eventually, but he's having so much fun.”

“Yes he is. Now you take care of him. You know how impatient he can be.” Mrs. Hudson walked to the door of the flat. “I'll just let myself out, then.”

Giving her a wink, John turned and joined Sherlock in their room.

Sherlock had already lost all his clothes and was stood dangling his cock like it was a stuffed toy.

“Oi, you, get your arse in that shower.” John followed with a grin on his face.

“I was waiting on you, Captain Watson.” Sherlock stepped under the spray of water, turning his face up into it and letting it run down his body. He gave a little appreciative gasp when John finally joined him and reached around his waist to grasp his cock. “Jooohn,” he moaned. “You know how soap works as lube…”

The doctor chuckled. “Good job I brought this then,” he pushed a tube in front of the detective and waved it about a bit. “Time for some fun, I think.”

Sherlock bit his lip as his eyes tracked the bottle in John's hand. “Hurry. We don't have that much time.”

“Impatient as ever.” The doctor grinned as he flicked the bottle open and poured a generous amount into the palm of his hand.

“Of course I'm impatient, if we're late Mycroft will want to know why!”

“Good point. Well we could always skip-”

“No!” Sherlock cut him off and John laughed.

“Perhaps I should ask before I use this.” John raised his palm full of lube. “Do you want a quick rut or...”

“You shouldn't have to ask. I want you inside me. Always.”

“Well, I don't know about that, but…” he trailed off and began pushing a finger in to Sherlock's hole.” Well, if you're shifting around uncomfortable Mycroft's gonna know something's up.”

“Well hurry up then. It's already 5 o'clock.”

“Cheeky bastard,” John replied fondly. He slipped a second finger in beside the first, stretching and prodding until he found what he was looking for, that little bundle of nerves.

Sherlock let out a little moan, pulled the doctor against him and then dropped his head to rest on John's shoulder.

“Nope,” John laughed, pushing him forward again, “hands against the wall.”

Sighing, Sherlock moved to do what the doctor had said and felt the head of John's cock nudging against him.

“Mmm, John. Yesss,” the detective hissed out. “Please. Can't wait. Need you.”

John grasped Sherlock's hips and held them in place as he thrust into him. It never ceased to amaze him, just how good the detective felt around him.

Strong arms pressed against the wall as John thrust in again and again. “I could stay inside you all day,” John whispered, as he kissed him on the back of the neck.

Sherlock moaned. “Please do.” The detective pushed back, meeting John's thrusts. He wanted to reach down and touch himself, but the doctor hadn't told him he could. That just made everything feel sweeter.

John leant up and rested his chin on Sherlock shoulder. “Look at you being a good boy,” he should have sounded ridiculous, but he didn't to Sherlock, he sounded hot and John's voice made him shiver.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Sherlock breathed as his eyes fluttered shut.

Releasing his grip on Sherlock's left hip, John reached around and took the detective's length in hand.

“Now, what shall I do with this then, 'Lock? Squeeze it?” He did so and Sherlock yelped. “Pinch it-”

“No!” Sherlock cut across him. John burst out laughing, letting his hard length go and wrapping his arms around him, crushing him in a hug. He still hadn't moved his hands and they were twitching to do so, one to go down towards his cock, the other to reach back and grab John's arse.

“You can touch yourself if you like.”

Sherlock's breath hitched, then he asked, “May I touch you as well, sir?”

Seeing as he was buried balls deep, John wasn't certain what the detective wanted. “Permission granted.”

Surprisingly neither hands went down, both went back, and with extraordinarily long arms Sherlock gripped the doctor's arse, pulling him closer.

John let out a soft breath as Sherlock fell forward, leaning against the wall. “God, you gorgeous creature.” Sherlock shuddered and clenched around John as he fought to hold off his orgasm, but the doctor chose that moment to speak again. “Come for me, love.”

Sherlock's low baritone rattled through the small space. “Oh, fuck.” Sherlock's orgasm covered the wall as he came through John's low chuckles, his breath covering his neck, and warming him far more sufficiently than the shower.

“Lovely,” John observed. “Now hold on. I'm going to fuck you so hard.” Matching word to deed, the doctor began to thrust in earnest. His hips slapped against Sherlock's arse with wet slapping sounds as he chased his own orgasm. “Put those pretty little hands back against the wall, babe.”

Sherlock obliged which gave John more reason to thrust harder.

“I regret to inform you, sir, that we should hurry.”

“Mphf,” John agreed. He tried to increase his pace, but he was already near his limit.

Sherlock clenched his inner muscles, clamping down on the doctor quite deliberately. It was enough. Just.

“If you think we're finishing there, you little brat,” John puffed when he could speak after his orgasmic high. “You've got a lot to learn.” Sherlock spun and dropped to his knees. From somewhere he had procured a flannel and the shower gel and he began rubbing at the doctor's legs.

“Are you attempting to bribe me now?”

The detective looked up guilty.

“No, sir.”

“Ohh, well then, when we get home tonight I'm going to fuck you into the mattress so hard you'll be seeing stars for weeks.”

Sherlock looked up at John through his lashes, smiling coyly. “Do you promise, Captain?”

The doctor threw his head back and laughed, pure joy bubbling out of him. “Of course, now let's get dressed before your brother’s car arrives.” John stepped out of the shower, shook all the excess water off himself and walked through to the bedroom, leaving a kneeling Sherlock in his wake.

Sherlock gave a little shiver then stood. As much as he enjoyed the orchestra, the night promised to drag on interminably. Anything would with John's promise hanging over him.

Just to be the annoying little brother Sherlock made sure the pair of them were late as Mycroft banged on the door to 221B. Sherlock had put the chain across on purpose.

“Sherlock Holmes, open up right now.”

Laughing, the detective flicked the chain out of the hole and swung the door in.

“John's managed to persuade you to wear a tie, I see.”

“Not at all, brother-mine, I've grown up.”

“John's doing,” the older man pointed out.

“No, isn't that right, S-John?”

John turned his back on the two men to hide his smile. When he had composed himself, he turned back. “I'd love to claim the credit, Mycroft, but you know Sherlock better than almost anyone. No one can tame him.”

“Not for want of trying, though.”

“There would be absolutely no point in wasting my time. Now this better be good, because if it's more boring than bowling I won't be impressed.”

Mycroft couldn't suppress the resulting eye roll. How was it that an ordinary, plebeian person like John was so good for his little brother? Even Mycroft couldn't form a good working hypothesis for that. He simply took it for a fact.

“Are we going then, brother dear?” Sherlock snarked, “don't want to be late for mummy after all.”

John had grabbed both their coats and handed the detective his.

 

** Two **

Mycroft could tell that despite Sherlock's claims that cabs were quick and reliable, he needed a car. He knew he could drive, he'd taught him as a teenager.

The metallic blue BMW I8 was sat just outside Baker Street, waiting for Mycroft to reveal its purpose.

This time it was John who spotted the gift, he let himself into 221 and clambered up the seventeen steps into the flat.

“Sherlock?”

The detective was sat in his chair plucking at random at his violin. “Hmm.”

“Do you realise there's a brand new BMW outside?”

“Boring,” Sherlock called out. He could feel John's excitement, but didn't understand. A car was a car, after all.

John turned and looked incredulously at his flatmate. “You are unbelievable! It's a sports car, but it's a hybrid and just look at her! She's sexy as hell.”

“It's a car, John, nothing more.”

“What the fuck is your brother playing at? Is he teasing us or is this for real?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Mycroft doesn't understand the meaning of the word 'teasing'. It's for real.”

“I've got to drive it.” John's eyes lit up. “Can I drive it?”

“John... You don't know how to drive.”

“For that, I'll learn. And hold on, how the hell do you know I can't drive?”

Sherlock looked him up and down but was interrupted in his deductions by his brother at the door. “Control yourself, John,” Sherlock hissed before turning to his brother with a calculatedly fake smile on his face. “Now what, Mycroft?”

The government official eyes drifted from Sherlock to John, taking in the doctor's obvious excitement. “There's a situation that requires your skills, brother mine. I've taken the liberty of providing appropriate transportation.”

“You know I have no interest in the things. Cabs work fine.”

“You may not but John certainly does.”

“Deduce again brother-mine.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”

“John can't drive.”

Mycroft halted where he was about to step into the room and looked the doctor up and down much like Sherlock had been a few seconds before. The government official gave a little smirk. “Then you'll simply have to teach him, won't you, brother-mine?”

“Ridiculous,” Sherlock declared. “I would be abysmal as an instructor.”

John looked back out the window at the car then reached a hand and grabbed the detective by the arm. “Let's not be too hasty.”

“Oh, please, John, you just want to show off to that fancy new girl you brought around last week!”

John choked on nothing. “Sherlock,” he hissed. “Not now!”

Turning back to his brother Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “did you really not deduce before, brother-mine?”

Mycroft fought to keep his lips from quirking up at the corners. Of course he had deduced it. He had also deduced John's fascination with sleek machinery of any type. Not that it was hard, the doctor was rather addicted to Top Gear. He made a show of studying his nails. “That's beside the point. The fact remains that you are needed.” Mycroft tossed the keys across the room to John who snatched them out of the air. “I've left the details of the case in the glovebox.”

“What if I was to say to you, big brother, that we have a case?”

Mycroft's eyebrow rose so high it nearly got lost in his thinning hair. “We, brother-mine?”

Sherlock paused and glanced at John. “Me,” he amended. “I meant I have a case.”

John turned to the detective. “You don't have a case.” He glanced back to Mycroft. “He doesn't have a case. He has nothing on. He's bored.”

“John,” Sherlock growled.

“Shut it! You're bored and you're doing this for Mycroft.” His gaze shot out the window again to the car.

With a winning grin Mycroft turned and made his exit. Sherlock waited until the door shut to get up from his seat and take the few steps to the older man. He kissed him, deeply and passionately, then dropped to his knees. “Not for Mycroft, sir, for you.”

“Right...” John closed his eyes, debating. “Um, love? Don't take this the wrong way, but canwetrythecarrightthisminuteandIpromisetofuckyouassoonaswe'redone?”

Sherlock bit his lip, not offended, but greatly amused. “John, sir. I might just get jealous. I've never been jealous before, I'm guessing this is what it's like.”

“Guessing, babe? You don't guess you deduce.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” He used John's hand that was in his hair to pull himself to his feet, after that he took said hand, “Come on then.”

John was giddy as he watched the doors to the BMW open. They raised up, reminding him of something he'd seen in a Transformers movie. When he slid into the driver's seat, he traced his fingers lovingly over the interior. “Hello, you sexy thing.”

“Stop with the Doctor Who quotes,” Sherlock mumbled as he wandered around the front. “John,” the doctor’s head snapped up to look at his detective. “Maybe I should drive first.”

“Why? Getting a taste for it?”

“No, not at all, but I think it best we go to a quiet location, not one of the busiest streets this side of the Thames.”

John sighed, his boy had a point. Sighing once again he clambered over the middle and let the younger man get in.

Sherlock pulled into traffic carefully and drove at a moderate speed.

“Oh, come on!” John complained. “You can do better than that. You're driving her like she's a cab, like you're my gran!”

The detective smirked. As soon as they were out of heavy traffic, he would show John exactly how he could drive.

And he did.

Rather than take John somewhere nearby he took a load of back streets that led to the A41. He glanced at John as he pulled into the dual carriageway, “You’re sure you want to see how I drive?”

“Sherlock!!!” John's fingers dug into the leather upholstery, his knuckles going white.

The detective turned and grinned at him.

John gestured wildly as a car horn blared and breaks sounded. “Eyes on the road!”

Sherlock snapped his head back around and shoved the car into sixth gear, flying past the moron who was horn-happy. When John glanced at the speedo Sherlock was way passed 110MPH.

“Where are we going?” John asked as he relaxed a bit. Despite the speed, Sherlock was definitely in control, and he had sort of asked for it.

“Hampstead Heath, perfect for this sort of thing,” he glanced in his rear-view and spotted the sirens before he heard them. “Bollocks! We were going to the Heath instead, I think maybe New Scotland Yard. My apologies, in advance.”

As they were cuffed and thrown up against the outside of the panda car, John lost it. “Great! Just great. Do you realise that I didn't have a criminal record before I met you.”

Sherlock gave him a half grin. “Oh, relax. You don't have one now. Mycroft takes care of these things.”

“You know, maybe I dislike being thrown in the back of one of these pointless bloody cars every other week.”

“Yeah, maybe you should shut up now,” he said cautiously as he glanced at the officers. One dragged him around to the other side and pushed him in.

“Why am I even being arrested?” John ground out, “I wasn't even driving.”

“Will you two shut up?!” The officer that had got in the driver’s side asked.

“Sorry, officer, he's a bit… deluded on occasion. You can leave the car my brother will sort it.”

“Your brother,” the other officer snarked. “Who's that? The Prime Minister?”

Sherlock chuckled. “Near enough. Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes, practically runs the government.”

 

** Three **

Greg grinned broadly as he watched John and Sherlock being brought in. “John, mate, we have got to stop meeting like this. If you missed our pub nights so much, you should have just phoned.”

“Come on Greg. I wasn't even driving,” John pleaded. “This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, innit?” The DI snapped the gum he was chewing in lieu of the cigarette that he was craving. “Cells 3 and 7.”

John sighed in relief.

“Pleased with that, are you, Doctor?” Sherlock smirked.

“For a moment I thought we would end up in the same one.”

“And what would be wrong with that?”

“You'd drive me up the wall that would be what was wrong with that.” “If I wasn't still cuffed like a common criminal I would punch you in the face.”

Greg stepped between them as the doctor lurched towards Sherlock. “That's enough boys.” He turned around when he heard the detective groan. “Well if it isn't Mr. Holmes.” A broad grin settled on the DI's face.

Sherlock slumped back against the wall, twisting his wrists in the cuffs as much as possible.

Greg grabbed his shirt and pulled him away from his resting place to stand in front of his brother.

“I have a deal to offer you brother-mine.”

“Piss off.”

“Hey now,” John interrupted. “Don't be so hasty. Deal, Mycroft?”

“You'll share a cell together for me to wipe your slates clean once more.”

The doctor blinked a few times. That was it? That was all they had to do? Then he recalled himself. “Oh, no. No, no, no! You are not putting me in a cell with him...” He jabbed his finger in Sherlock's direction. “If I wasn't mad before, I would be after a night of his pacing and whinging.”

Sherlock forced himself to look indignant. “What about your precious reputation, John? You'll have that criminal record you were so worried about.”

John stood with his finger still pointed at the detective and let his mouth fall open as if at a loss for words.

Sherlock jingled his wrists about and Greg moved to un-cuff him. “That's it, 10 minutes after John.”

“You were the one that was going to punch him, precautions need to be put in place, Sherlock, and this is a police station.”

“Oh whatever, Gavin.”

“Actually, Greg,” John interrupted. “Could I ask for one small favour?” He was determined to have the last word.

The DI peered over his shoulder curiously. “If Mr. Holmes is amenable.”

The government official inclined his head slightly and John continued. “Leave them on?”

Mycroft let out a soft laugh.

“If you're locking me in a 6 by 7 concrete room with him I need something to keep me entertained.”

Mycroft's brows drew together in concentration for a moment, then he shook his head as if to brush a thought away. “Oh go ahead, Gregory. Leave them on. Perhaps he'll finally learn something from an incarceration.”

The DI shrugged, gestured John into the cell and gave him a wink. “Better you than me, mate.”

“Better me than him.”

Greg laughed with a glance at Sherlock who was managing to do a brilliant job of a pitiful look at his brother. “Mycie,” he moaned. “Please.”

Mycroft leant out and tapped the officer that had arrested his little brother and his flatmate. He spun around. “Mr. Holmes?”

“What speed was my baby brother doing when you pulled him over?”

“Nearly, 170 MPH, sir.”

“Lock the door, Gregory.”

***

John and Sherlock maintained their respective demeanours until the DI and Mycroft had disappeared and just a few moments longer, then they looked at each other and broke into a fit of giggles.

The doctor walked over and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and pressed down. Sherlock's knees buckled and he bowed his head. “God, you are the most absolutely gorgeous creature I have ever seen.” Sherlock looked up with a cocky grin. “However,” the doctor carried on. “You have once again got me locked in a cell.”

Sherlock shrugged. “You've got me handcuffed for the entire night, fair deal wouldn't you say?”

John shook his head. “Nope, I wouldn't.” He glanced at the door, the hatch had been shut and it was getting on a bit there wouldn't be any coppers around. He pushed the detective's trousers and pants down then pinched his ear between finger and thumb and pulled him towards him as he stepped back towards the wall. Once he was leaning against it, Sherlock got his hopes up only for John to slide out of the way and lay down on the bunk, quite content just to watch the younger man's arse ‘til he fell asleep.

It didn't take long, John hadn't thought it would, before Sherlock's patience waned. He shifted, wiggling his arse and letting out a theatrical moan as he looked over his shoulder. For added measure, he twisted his hands in the cuffs and gripped his own arse, squeezing lightly. “Joohhn.”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Haven't I been punished enough?” He gave his arse another wiggle.

“Hmm. Jury is out on that one.”

“But you are much more aesthetically pleasing than the wall.”

“True, but so was the BMW. Which I didn't get to drive, I might add.”

Sherlock pondered the appropriate comeback, but you can drive me was the obvious response, but it sounded completely ridiculous. He still didn't understand what John saw in a car? Hadn't he seen what happened when they were driven at a speed they were made for? Rather than argue any of this however, he sighed and dropped his head, the top, falling to rest against the wall, his eyes falling shut.

John kept watching his flatmate/friend/lover for quite some time, until, at last, he realised Sherlock had fallen asleep. The detective, who never slept, was knelt against a wall, his hands cuffed behind his back and his arse exposed to John's perusal and he had fallen asleep.

John pulled up his pants and trousers, setting him to rights, then encouraged him up onto the bed, but made him sleep the other way round. It would give the whole game away if in the morning the door opened to them hugging each other.

It was an unusual transposition of their normal roles, Sherlock asleep and John awake. The doctor treasured these rare moments, even here in the cell, as he got to see Sherlock relaxed and at peace. It was rather like he looked after a spectacular shagging. Aware that he couldn't watch the sleeping man forever he twisted him over so he was on his front, mindful of his arms and laid down in the other direction, they needed to look the part, so that's what John did as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

The next morning, Greg opened the cell. Seeing how the two men were laying, the DI sighed with frustration. He hated disappointing Mycroft, but there was nothing for it. The government official would have to try again.

The sound of the door woke John but Sherlock was still sound asleep. He swung his legs around off the bunk, groaning. “Have you any idea how much I hate you right now?” John asked.

“Nowhere near as much as I'm hating the fact that you two are still determined to ignore what is blatantly obvious.”

“What?”

The DI sighed and shook his head, he walked over to Sherlock and grabbed the back of his shirt, the tug to his feet woke him and he jerked groaning at the discomfort in his shoulders, “Come out to the desk, we'll deal with them.”

Mycroft was waiting at the desk, a look of disgust on his face. He looked like he had stepped in something distasteful. “It appears that the pair of you are a hopeless case. Speaking of cases, the situation I needed to investigate has been resolved.”

John's face fell and he swatted at Sherlock. So much for the car.

“Oh, don't fret about the car, John. It's been paid for and I certainly have no use for it. Keep it.”

“Like there was any case in the first place!” Sherlock spat, matching his brother's distaste. The pain in his shoulders wasn't helping to stamp on his temper.

“I can have those cuffs left on, Sherlock, don't tempt me.”

The detective's aching shoulders slumped in defeat, surprising all three of the other men, even more surprising; “I'm sorry, Mycroft.”

 

** Four **

They had finally returned to the flat after a long case. It was late afternoon and John had to go to work to cover the night shift. There wasn't even time for a shower. He stalked to his room to fetch clean clothes, he could at least change. One glance at the closet full of new clothes and he was torn - should he be furious or should he start laughing? “Sherlock!” he yelled. “Your brother's been at it again.”

Sherlock walked in and immediately deduced what had happened. He skipped down the stairs and into their room, his own wardrobe was also full. He grinned and ran back up the stairs. “He doesn't know when to give in, does he?”

The doctor shrugged.

“Maybe it's reverse psychology.”

“How'd you mean?”

“Well, he gives us lots of clothes which is a secret message for us to take them all off and get at it.” He rugby tackled John onto the bed.

“I have work, remember?”

“No you don't.”

“I do. I work every Wednesday, you know this, or you did and you've deleted it.”

“I haven't deleted it. My brain is full of useful stuff, when you are or are not at work is very useful to me.”

John smiled from beneath him but struggled to stand. “That doesn't change the fact Sarah is expecting me.”

“She's not. I phoned. Said you didn't feel well.”

“Git,” John responded fondly. “I should be angry with you.”

“But you're not,” Sherlock beamed.

John kissed him. “I'm really not. But... Wait! Tell me he didn't get rid of the purple shirt.”

“Aubergine,” the detective corrected as he kissed along John's jawline.

“That didn't answer my question.” John moved his hands and flipped them over, he spread the detective's legs with his knee and pressed it up against his crotch.

“I, um... John,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering. “It was still there. Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “And the horrid jumpers?”

The doctor dropped a kiss to the tip of Sherlock's nose. “Don't worry. I think I saw the oatmeal one, at least.”

The detective tried to wriggle out. “Let me go John!”

“Why?” The doctor was immediately concerned and leant back so he could move if he wanted to.

“Need to get rid of that one too.”

“You little shit.” John grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head, intent on devouring the detective's mouth and the rest of him.

Sherlock's fingers sought out the head board as a low, needy sound escaped his lips. “John, please stop.” His body seemed to have a mind of its own as his hips rose to meet the doctor who was hovering over him. “Take me to dinner.”

“What?”

“Please. Wear the blue suit, the jewel toned one.”

“How do you even... Were you in on this?”

Sherlock opened his mouth but closed it again. “No. But I happen to be quite clever and know for a fact Mycroft liked you in it when we went to the orchestra with my parents. There is no way he would have avoided purchasing another one that was identical. Well, I say identical. I imagine this one will be more fitted and I want to see you in it.”

John dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment. “If we go out, I won't be responsible for what happens later.”

The detective watched him for a moment. “What could possibly happen that I wouldn't enjoy?”

One crushing kiss later, John grasped Sherlock by the curls and pulled. “You're just mad enough, you probably would enjoy it.”

The detective's smile was insolent.

“But I promise you, I'll take you apart, bring you to the edge and keep you there, maybe all night. You'll be so beautiful, shivering and broken, totally debauched and I'll be the one that gets to see you like that. And when you beg, and you will, I'll won't give you what you want, not until I'm damn good and ready.”

Sherlock's eyes had gone wide, his pupils blown and he gave a little whimper.

“Right then.” John stood up, his entire demeanour changing, going casual and soft. “Dinner?”

“No. Fuck me.”

John sauntered to his wardrobe and pulled out the suit Sherlock had deduced would be in there. “Not a chance am I wasting the opportunity to go out for dinner, especially when it was your idea.”

“I might have been in error when I made that request.”

The doctor cocked an eyebrows. “No shit, Sherlock. But it's too late to change your mind now. Get dressed.” He was secretly looking forward to seeing Sherlock in one of his new suits. Though he doubted he could possibly look any better than he did on a daily basis.

He was wrong.

Sherlock skulked out of the spare room and slunk down the stairs. When John finally caught him up he froze in what appeared to be pride.

“Oh, my God,” John breathed. “You look amazing. I didn't think you could... I mean, you look even better than normal. I may not let you out of the flat.”

The tips of Sherlock's ears turned pink and a slow blush suffused his face. “I would be amenable if you felt like changing the plan John.”

The doctor shook his head and kissed him quickly. He grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the flat.

“Where are we going?” Sherlock asked.

“Why don't you deduce it?”

The detective grinned. “You're not really hungry, but you want to watch me eat, you find it pleasing, so somewhere I like. Though you want dinner to be quick, you want it to be romantic and you want to show me off, so somewhere neither Mycroft nor Lestrade would frequent. In addition, you're feeling rather sentimental at the moment, so Angelo's.”

With a squeeze of to the other man's hand, John smiled. “Amazing. That didn't really take much deducing, though, did it? I mean if you had chosen where we were headed I would have been able to work that out.”

Sherlock pouted. “Let's make this more difficult for you.” John looked around for a moment and spotted a couple across the street. “Deduce where they are going.”

At that, the detective perked up. He gave the couple a quick once over as they looked at a map and then he groaned. “Quick, John,” he hissed as he pulled the doctor into an alleyway. “They're,” here he shuddered, “fans. Looking for 221.” Sherlock peered around the corner, relaxing slightly. “Good, they didn't see us.”

John stepped around the younger man and watched them as they rounded a corner, the pair of them had just come from. “Mrs. Hudson's gonna love us.”

“It's almost too good to miss.”

“Oh no, we are going to dinner. You are going to eat a full meal without complaint.”

“You're no fun, John.”

“Really? That's not what you said the other night.”

“The other night, you had buggared me into the mattress.”

“I was planning to do that tonight but if you continue to argue and waste time, I'll drag you to Angelo's force you into a seat, force you to eat, drag you all the way back home again, push that dildo you hate into the gap in the chair you also hate, put it in the corner and force you on it.”

Sherlock closed his mouth and kept it shut all the way to Angelo's. He really hated when John did that. It wasn't that the stimulation would be unpleasant, nor was it that it would be humiliating (it would). It was that John wouldn't be touching him and that would be unacceptable.

When it came to the fourth time that Sherlock stood up and went to the loo John had had enough. He waited until the younger man got back and had taken his seat once more before he leant over and hissed in his ear. “Do you think I don't know what you're playing at?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean.”

“I am not about to fuck you in Angelo's loo.”

Sherlock glanced over to where Angelo was stood and gave him a wave. Angelo grinned and waved back. “I don't know why not. He wouldn't mind.”

“Or is this you wasting time because you want to be sat in the corner with a dildo shoved up that tight little ass of yours?”

The detective froze and his breath hitched, he spotted Angelo still watching them and quickly looked away. His face was flushed and his cock was aching in his trousers. Looking up through his lashes, Sherlock asked, “Where did you learn to do that? Talking the way you do.” He shifted uncomfortably.

John licked his lips. “I don't know. I never used to. It's you. The things you make me want to do to you just by existing. Now stand up.”

Sherlock shook his head. No. He didn't want to. He couldn't. If he did everyone would see his arousal. If he didn't John would surely have him in the corner while he teased him endlessly all night.

“Sherlock,” John warned.

The detective buried his face in his hands for a moment. How could he be so cavalier one moment, trying to get John to shag him in the loo, and be so completely embarrassed now?

John placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's alright.”

“I know.” Sherlock took a deep breath and stood, keeping his eyes cast down, not wanting to know who was looking, who was seeing him in this state.

“But you're the one who has been teasing me all night. So I don't really care if you're embarrassed. Just make your choice, 'Lock, believe me, either will make me happy.”

The detective braced himself and met John's eyes. His knees nearly gave way as he throttled down the urge to kneel for Captain Watson.

“We'll be needing a cab then,” John noted. He was more than ready to be back home.

John pulled his boy from the back of the cab and dragged him up the stairs of Baker Street. He pushed him into the chair he'd mentioned earlier and retrieved the dildo. “This is going in your pretty little hole, whilst you suck me. Sound good, little pet?”

Sherlock, slightly dazed, nodded. John wasn't leaving him alone. He'd get to touch him (and be touched, if he was lucky).

When John had inserted the dildo and positioned him just the way he wanted, he tapped the detective's lips. Sherlock gladly opened up to him and enthusiastically went to work. His mind quieted and his perception narrowed down to John, John, and only John.

 

** Five **

Mycroft was sat in John's chair waiting on the occupants of 221B to return. In his hand was a folder containing papers for his brother to sign, papers that would give Sherlock full access to his trust fund, but there was a catch. It needed three signatures: his own, of course, his baby brother and one other. He was fed up of Sherlock breaking into his office when he wasn't there and stealing his cards. It wasn't the money he was bothered about; there was plenty of that to go round, no, it was the principle and the fact that it gave him another reason to make the two men of 221 Baker Street see each other, really see.

Sherlock's voice carried up the stairwell, “I'll just pop in and visit Mrs. Hudson.”

“That's... What? Why?” John sounded confused.

“Mycroft!”

“I didn't see his car.”

“He sent it away, trying to throw me off.”

There was the sound of a scuffle.

“Ow!”

The sound of his little brother yelping was too good for even Mycroft Holmes to resist so he stood and wandered to the door. Sherlock was on his arse rubbing at his back indignantly. John was stood over him laughing with his arms folded. “Evening Mycroft,” he called up the stairs. He stepped over the body on the floor and clambered up.

Mycroft leant against the doorframe and smiled sardonically as Sherlock stood and climbed the stairs.

The detective made a face as he shouldered his way passed. “It's been a horrid day, brother dear. Tell me what you want, then kindly piss off.”

“Lovely greeting, as ever.” He pushed away from the door frame. “John. This is a business call.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Pft.”

“I'll be in my room then,” he declared.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and grabbed Sherlock's collar as he went passed. He pushed him in the direction of the kitchen. “Put the kettle on, baby brother, this is important and may take a while.”

Sherlock spun on his toe and glared at the older Holmes.

“It's alright,” John could see World War III about to start in his sitting room. “I'll get it.”

“No need, John. My brother is going to owe me that at least when he sees why I'm here.”

“Nothing you have to say could possibly interest me.”

“Well, then.” Mycroft handed him the folder and went to resume his seat in John's chair.

Sherlock pushed the folder roughly into the doctor's hands, then strode across the room to look out of the window.

John opened the folder and scanned the papers, his eyes going wide. “Sherlock, I really think you should take a look at this.”

The detective whirled about, aborting his movement towards his violin. From the look on John's face, he quickly deduced that this was another ploy on Mycroft's part to make them 'see sense'. He thrust out his hand as the doctor approached and took the folder. He used the paper to hide his smirk and quickly schooled his features into something unreadable even by Mycroft's standards.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, this was sentiment even if Mycroft would argue differently. “I'll um… put the kettle on. Tea, John?”

Sherlock stepped close to John's side, turning his back towards the living room. “This is freedom, John! Do you realise that?” He bounced up on the balls of his feet. “I'll never have to pander to his fat arse again.”

John barked a laugh that he quickly stifled. “I can't say that I've noticed a lot of pandering on your part.” He craned his neck and looked back into the living room. “You don't mind?”

“What, that you have to sign the papers? Absurd. How could I mind,” Sherlock forgot himself for a moment and started to lean in for a kiss.

John dodged, muttering, “Mycroft.” But his look clearly said he was going to pay for that later. Sherlock grinned. “Anyway, Mycroft does a lot more than pay your rent, Sherlock.”

“Like what?”

“Like get us off last week when you thought it would be funny to nearly treble the speed limit.”

“He didn't get us off without being punished though, did he? My arms still hurt. But that was also your doing.”

“Mine!” John spluttered. “You have got to be...”

“John, Sherlock!” Mycroft called. “I do have other pressing matter to attend to, could we possibly move this along?”

“We'll talk about this later,” John hissed as he lifted the tea tray and carried it into the living room.

“Oh Sherlock, still can't boil a kettle on your own?” Mycroft teased.

He opened his mouth to argue but John kicked him in the shin. He bit his lip to stop from yelling out.

“Sit there, Sherlock and sign.”

It was second nature to him by this point to rebel at any order received from Mycroft, just this once, he bit his tongue. Literally. “Ouch!”

Mycroft, of course, knew exactly what had happened and grinned at his brother's small discomfort.

“John you do know what you're agreeing to here, don't you?”

“It's a piece of paper, Mycroft, I'm not an idiot.”

Sherlock laughed and John kicked him again.

“You really aren't having a great day today are you, little brother?”

Mycroft took the signed papers, feeling rather chuffed. “I'll just take these and have them filed then.” He stood. “I'll send you a copy, of course.”

The moment the outer door to 221 closed, John and Sherlock fell into fits of laughter.

The doctor gasped between breaths, “How long until he figures it out?”

The following day Sherlock demanded his brother and Greg meet them at the registry office, they were to wear their best suits.

 

** Five+ **

John was almost as amused as Sherlock by the turn of events - the detective getting one over on his brother. He gave Sherlock a hug, then went up on the balls of his feet to drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I can't believe I get to marry you today.” John shook his head. “And we even managed to keep it from Mycroft!” He laughed.

The corners of Sherlock's mouth quirked up, he loved John's laugh. “I would have loved to see his face when he realised that we were already planning to get married.”

They were interrupted by loud thudding from the door. A rather angry landlady storming in, she marched straight to Sherlock and swatted him with her tea towel.

Sherlock squeaked and hid behind John. “Protect me! I think she was MI5 maybe MI6.”

The doctor rounded on him. “Sherlock Holmes, you mean to tell me that you didn't invite Mrs. Hudson?!”

“No he didn't,” their landlady affirmed, then swatted John with the towel. “And neither did you.”

That made Sherlock laugh. “Yeah, John, you're the sensible one you're supposed to remember these things.”

“You would not like my response if Mrs. Hudson wasn't here, young man.”

Sherlock bit his lip and took a step back, away from the both of them. He performed a mental calculation and, for one fleeting moment, actually considered retreating to their room and using the fire escape.

“Oh, I forgive you, dear. Just this once, mind.” Mrs. Hudson smiled and gave him a wink. “Just a tick and I'll get dressed.”

“What do you mean, just this once, Mrs. Hudson?” He looked from one to the other them back again. “I never intend to need to marry again.”

“Well, I should think not!” John walked over and pulled him down for a kiss. “This is forever.”

Their landlady went a bit misty eyed, her hands fluttering before they came to rest, covering her heart. “Oh, boys.” She fled down the stairs to get dressed, wiping tears from her eyes.

Sherlock watched her go and was about to say something but John reached down and grabbed his cock through his pyjama bottoms. His breath hitched in his throat.

“I said you would not like my response if Mrs. Hudson wasn't here, well look around, Boy, she's not here.”

Sherlock's mouth fell open and he flushed from the tips of his ears straight down his chest. “I... Um... but the time.” They had to get ready and they had to do it right then.

“I think we can manage.” He snatched his ear from the air and dragged him from the living room to their bedroom.

“Strip!”

Sherlock complied immediately, licking his lips slightly.

John followed suit and once they were both naked he pulled him into the bathroom and into the shower, pushing him to his knees.

“Now suck.”

Before he could stop himself, Sherlock spouted off, “Traditionally, this would wait until after the ceremony.”

“And you're all about tradition.” John grabbed him by the curls, giving them a sharp tug, then using them to guide the detective's head where he wanted it. He forced him to take his whole length until he choked, then pulled him back, his eyes were watering slightly but he was still grinning. “Keep going, boy,” John ordered as he reached for the shampoo.

Sherlock did as he was told, but the moment John started working shampoo through his hair, he froze – It simply felt too good.

The doctor let him get away with it for a few moments as he massaged Sherlock's scalp, then he tugged on the foamy mess and barked out, “Boy!”

Giving a start, the detective went back to work.

When John was as hard as Sherlock had ever seen him he pulled off. “You know, it's bad luck for the bride to see the groom before a wedding, John.”

“That's fine.”

“It is?”

“Why have you stopped sucking, we're short of time as it is without you slacking. We're two grooms, there is no bride. Unless you fancy wearing a dress?” Sherlock bit down on John's cock to voice his displeasure at that idea. But he hadn't bitten hard, just enough to earn him a smack to the head.

“Just wait until tonight, boy! There will be consequences.”

Sherlock pulled off and looked up at him, smiling again. “Is that a promise, sir?”

“You better believe it. But if you think I'm going to let you keep sucking…” he trailed off and used the hand he already had in the younger man's curls to pull him to his feet.

Sherlock whinged, “You're a tease.”

“I'm a tease?” John swatted at him. “You're a professional at it. For that I should plug you.”

The detective's eyes lit up.

“Oi! You,” John laughed. “Not on our wedding day.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so, that's why.”

“But why?”

“Are you arguing with me?”

Sherlock froze and instead wrapped his arms around the older man before lifting him off his feet.

“Nope. Not arguing.” Sherlock spun him around and they broke into a fit of giggles. “I'm marrying you today.”

John, back on his feet now, kissed Sherlock. “We really need to finish getting ready.” He raised his hands and started rising the soap from Sherlock's curls.

“I love the fact you take forever on my hair.”

“I like it too.”

“I suppose it's because you haven't got much of your own…”

He grinned at the look of astonishment on John's face and ran off into the bedroom, still soaking wet. John gave chase. He grabbed him around the waist, their momentum landing them on the bed. “I have plenty of hair, you git. It's turning grey, not loose.”

Sherlock ran his fingers through the doctor's hair. “Hmm, so it would seem.”

John went to slap the back of his head and Sherlock caught his wrist. “What happened to needing to get ready? Sir?” He purred.

John glanced at the clock. “Damn.”

“I think Mrs. Hudson is waiting.”

“What? In the living room.” The doctor blushed to the tips of his ears. What had she seen?

“Relax, John. She was amused.”

“You are such a little shit.” He pushed him towards the wardrobe, “Get dressed. And pass me my own suit while you're there.”

“Who else knows?”

John smirked. “Everyone.”

“Including my parents?”

“Well, I knew you'd forget to tell them, so I did.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and let out a theatrical moan as he collapsed on the bed in an absolute pile of sulk. “I didn't tell them for a reason, John.”

“What like we didn't tell Mycroft…”

“No, that was for the cool gifts. And the fact that we managed to deceive him for over 3 years.”

John laughed. “Well, I told them for a reason. It's fine. Your father was thrilled.”

Sherlock grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it.

“And so was your mum.”

Sherlock uttered a muffled, “Not the point.”

“Oh, baby, don't be like that.”

Sherlock's head shifted enough so that he could speak clearly. “This is our day. Mummy will ruin it.”

“Ah, see there's where you're wrong. Your father said that she's really looking forward to it, can't wait to see you in a suit again.”

“That's my point!” Sherlock snarked. “That was the last time we saw them. At the orchestra, it was a year ago!”

“And she'll dote.” Sherlock rolled over, pouting into the mattress. “I hate it when she dotes.”

“And I love it. You're so precious when she makes you squirm. Anyway, enough of the arguing. Suit. Now.”

Sighing, Sherlock rolled off the bed, by this point he was dry so he just grabbed some pants from the drawer and threw the doctor his own.

When they emerged into the living room, it was to find Mrs. Hudson waiting. She stood and looked at them. “Oh, my boys,” she said as she brought a handkerchief to her eyes to wipe at them. “I had almost given up on seeing this day.”

Sherlock grinned and stepped over to her, voluntarily giving her a warm hug.

John stood back, gobsmacked for a moment. Mrs. Hudson caught his eye and smiled over Sherlock's shoulder, she winked and whispered something in the detective's ear.

“Undoubtedly,” Sherlock agreed then gave her a peck on the cheek. He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed, “Shall we, then?”

John gave him a confused, but fond look. “Yes, lets.” He hooked his arm in Sherlock's and the three proceeded from the flat.

Sherlock paused before they even reached the door.

“What is it?”

“Mycroft couldn't let it go.”

He swung the door open and turned back to face his fiancé who for the third time that day was gaping but this time at the vehicle waiting.

It was the longest, gaudiest, stretch limousine that either man had ever seen - it was hot pink.

“Oh, God,” John said as he turned back towards the flat, almost running Mrs. Hudson down in his haste to hide. “This is his revenge for hiding our relationship.”

Sherlock took it in with a look of adoration.  “This isn't revenge, John, this is a well done.”

Neither man could believe it.

“This is a congratulations? On what?”

“Getting married? Keeping it from him? Take your pick.” Sherlock held his arm out for his landlady and she poked her wrist through.

They climbed into the limousine, Sherlock sitting with his leg pressed against John, Mrs. Hudson sitting across from them.

There was a click on the intercom as one of the windows between them and the driver's compartment lowered. “Hiya.” Greg waved from the front seat which seemed miles away. “Mycroft sent me in case you made a last minute runner.”

“Don't lie Greg.”

“You got my name right.”

“Don't change the subject either, put down the other window.”

The DI's lips went up in a smirk and he leant forward to flick the switch for the other half of the window to reveal the driver. Mycroft. 

“Hello, little brother.”

Sherlock actually grinned.

John's mouth fell open at the sight of the British Government driving. And wasn't a special license required to drive a limousine? He didn't know. But who would pull Mycroft Holmes over for reckless driving? Sherlock was one thing but the older Holmes? The officers would never live it down.

“John, mate?” Greg asked with a grin, “Are you alright?”

The doctor shook his head. “I'm not entirely certain. Sherlock, did you poison my tea again?”

“What do you mean again?” He wiggled his tie indignantly and glanced out the window as Mycroft pulled out into traffic.

“And how did you even know he was there?”

“Greg was leaning far too far to the right next to a driver he didn't know.”

“Oh, of course.” John grinned and gave Sherlock's knee a squeeze. “Obvious.”

“That's not what you normally say,” Sherlock pouted.

“Ah, sorry. I meant amazing, extraordinary!”

“Too late.” The detective crossed his arms petulantly.

Mycroft glanced at his baby brother in the rear view. “Oh, ickle Lockie, you're supposed to be proud of him for finding it obvious.”

He frowned instead. “It was only obvious after I pointed it out.”

John shook his head at the immaturity of such an intelligent man. He set about tickling him to match the lack of maturity. Sherlock fought to get away from John, ending up in a giggling heap by the door.

“Boys!” Mrs. Hudson swatted at them with her handbag. “You'll wrinkle your lovely clothes.”

“That's entirely true.” John sobered immediately.

“That's a great idea Mrs. H.”

John had to swat Sherlock's hands away as the consulting git tried to relieve him of his jacket. “Not here!”

Mrs. Hudson tittered, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Alright.” He sighed and pouted. It was a matter of minutes before he was vibrating with energy.

“John,” he moaned.

“What, babe?”

“I'm bored!”

“No, you're not. You're nervous. And it's cute.”

“I'm not cute!”

“You really are.”

Mrs. Hudson chimed in, “Yes, dear you are.”

“Yeah, mate,” Greg grinned. “You really, really are.”

Mycroft looked over his shoulder as they stopped at a set of lights. “You know what, Sherlock?”

“What?!” He snapped.

“You really are cute.”

Sherlock sank down in his seat as if to hide. Cute! Bah!

Leaning down, John whispered into his ear, “I find it to be incredibly sexy, by the way.”

Sherlock gave a satisfied smirked. That was acceptable.

When they pulled up outside of the registry office John climbed out the same side as Greg and Mrs. Hudson followed. Sherlock stayed in the back.

John poked his head back in. “'Lock?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Mycroft. The silent incline of the head told John what he needed to know so he moved out of the way and followed the DI.  Mycroft climbed in and closed the door. Sherlock burrowed into his older brother.

“He's good for me.”

Mycroft wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders. “I know, though I wasn't certain at first.” He sighed. “How many times would I have lost you if it weren't for your doctor?” Sherlock started to say something, but Mycroft cut him off. “No, don't answer. Some things are better left unknown.”

“That's the point, Mycroft. He's too good.”

“This is a little late for you to be rethinking, 'Lock.”

“I'm not rethinking Mycroft, I haven't stopped thinking this since he proposed.”

“You never do, but just this once, stop thinking and feel.”

“Sentiment.”

“This is a day for sentiment, is it not?”

Sherlock looked up at his brother who was still holding him and silently conceded the point.

“I can't do this, Mycie, with mother and father…”

Mycroft froze and looked his brother straight in the eye. “You know, I think that is the first time you have been truly honest with me in about 15 years.”

“I know it wasn't your fault Mycroft.”

“And that is the second time. But I can't agree.”

Sherlock looked up at his brother. “I spent 98% of the time high and the other 2% pretending to be.”

Mycroft let his head fall back against the seat. “That's not what today is about. And don't you think that's all the more reason for them to want to see you happy?”

“Mother told you to leave me there!”

“She only wants what's best for you, Sherlock, much like myself.”

Sherlock buried his head again. “I know you do.”

“Come on, 'Lock,” Mycroft gave his shoulders a squeeze, “your Doctor Watson is waiting.”

A puff of air escaped Sherlock's lungs as he sighed heavily. “The one thing assured to get me out of this flamingo pink car.” He sat up and smoothed his hands over his jacket - they were trembling. “You'll back me up?”

“Always.”

Sherlock got out with a little shove from his brother.

***

Greg grabbed John's sleeve. “They're coming.”

John snapped his head over to look, Sherlock was coming towards them, slightly behind his brother, his head low. It wasn't until he saw John that the doctor saw his face light up.

“You two should have done this years ago.” Greg was grinning his crooked smile.

“I don't know, we got a lot of good gifts from your boyfriend while we waited.”

“Fooling me is one thing. But I have no idea how you kept it from him.”

“To be honest, mate, neither do we.”

John took Sherlock's hand as he drew near. He could have sworn his hand tingled at the touch, even after all this time. From the look on the detective's face, he felt the same. “Ready?”

Sherlock took a moment, but couldn't find an answer.

“Ok, let's try this another way. Do you trust me?”

The detective looked into his sea blue eyes and smiled. “Always.” It was his parents he didn't trust.

Together, they turned to walk into the building. Just inside the door, Sherlock's parents were waiting. The detective tightened his grip on John's hand, holding onto him for dear life. He berated himself for flinching when his mother stepped up and instead looked around at Mycroft who stepped forward almost protectively.

“Sherlock!” She leant forward and twisted his tie before tightening slightly. Sherlock stepped back and loosened it again. He just realised that the amount of times Mrs. Hudson did something like that and he didn't so much as blink but his own mother?

He distracted himself searching for Harry. John must have realised who he was looking for and shook his head once, not sadly, almost glad.

Mr. Holmes held out his hand. “John, we're so glad you're going to be part of the family.” He leaned in close talking conspiratorially, “If we can get Mycroft and Greg married too, you and I won't be outnumbered any more. It's so hard being surrounded by bloody geniuses all the time. You know how family gatherings are.”

“I find it challenging enough with one Holmes. Two I can occasionally handle, with Greg's help, but three?” The doctor nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “It would be a pleasure to assist you, Mr. Holmes.”

Greg appeared and slapped his hands down on John's shoulders. “What are you talking about in your hushed tones?”

“Nothing really, just thought of setting you and Mycroft up… you know, like me and 'Lock.”

Greg snatched his hands back and shoved them in his pockets. John turned to face him and caught a look of guilt cross his face.

“Greg... What have you two done?”

“Oh! No, no, not that!” Greg replied, still looking entirely too sheepish.

Mycroft joined the three of them, happy that Sherlock's landlady could handle his troublesome little brother even if his mother couldn't.

“Gregory, what have you done?” But one look at each man respectively and Mycroft already knew.

Greg held up his hands, depicting his innocence. “I didn't say a word!”

Mycroft gave John a considering look. “I see Sherlock is rubbing off on you, John. Still, Gregory and I don't wish to steal your day, so shall we discuss this at a later date?”

“So you two are...” the doctor asked, still pushing.

Mycroft sighed, bowing to the inevitable. “Engaged, yes.”

The DI took his fiancé’s hand. “Don't sound so grim.”

“And you were planning to tell us this when?” Sherlock snarked from behind him.

Mycroft sensed this whole situation was about to explode. Best diffuse his brother with a complement. “You managed to deceive the both of us of your relationship, let alone your engagement, rather more impressive, don't you think?”

Sherlock puffed up, looking predictably smug. At the same time, John covered his mouth with his fist to hide his smile - finally, Mycroft was learning how to handle his little brother.

“Shall we go in?” Mrs. Holmes interrupted both her sons' staring competition.

“A moment.” Sherlock held a finger up and turned back to his brother. “Mycroft, as my brother and because I-we managed to deceive you for so long, would you be my best man?”

Mycroft swallowed, his face softening just a bit. “That would be... agreeable.” He hissed as Lestrade kicked him in the shin.

“Agreeable, my arse.” Greg gave him a stern look.

“Ahem,” Mycroft rephrased his answer, “I would like that very much, it would be an honour.”

“Oi! Greg, you're not getting out of it,” John tapped his shoulder. “Since I'm marrying the man I love the most I can't ask him, would you be agreeable to being mine? Despite the late notice?”

Greg gave him a grin and, looking pointedly at Mycroft, pulled the doctor into a hug. “I would be honoured and delighted.” He stepped back, and looked at his fiancé. “That's how you do it.”

Mycroft and Sherlock both rolled their eyes.

“Maybe we should just leave them to it? Maybe they can marry each other?” Sherlock offered.

John's nose flared but what surprised him more was the fact Mycroft agreed with him. They both turned to walk out and were grabbed by the collar by each respective partner and kissed thoroughly.

“Now, you git,” John hissed. “Get your arse in that room.”

Sherlock suddenly lost all his nervousness and, grinning like an idiot, took John's hand and dragged him into the room.

Mycroft and Greg followed suit closely followed by Mrs. Hudson and the older two Holmes'.

Then, just like that, John and Sherlock were married, it wasn't a dream anymore, it was real, very, very real. The detective felt his heart swell with joy and pride as everyone exchanged hugs and laughter filled the room.

John pulled the detective away from Mrs. Hudson and crushed him in his own hug.

“You're mine now, you got that?”

“Yes, John. Utterly and completely.”


End file.
